His stomach clutched. Carissa gave his hand a squeeze and
it reminded him he wasn’t alone.
“Thomas?” A woman’s soft voice carried on the cold
breeze that blew through cemetery.
He stiffened. Pursed his lips and looked forward.
Beside him, Carissa turned to look at the woman who had called to him. Two sets of footsteps approached behind
him.
Carissa looked back at Thomas as the woman called
out to him again. Finally, he turned. A woman walked
toward him, a young girl at her side, their hands held
together. The woman began to sob.
“Oh, Thomas.” She released the young girl’s hand and
started toward him again, but stopped just short of
wrapping her arms around him. “Thomas . . .”
“Mom,” he said, but his voice broke.
Carissa’s gaze wandered between mother and son. She could see the resemblance, and the trepidation, between them. It was painful. Again, she squeezed Thomas’s hand, and he looked down at her. There was fear in his eyes.
“You’ve come to see your sister?” The woman who stood before them seemed to be searching for words. She had to be searching for a connection with the son she’d lost on the night she lost her daughter.
“I’ve never been here,” he admitted.
“Oh, Thomas. I have missed you.” Tears streamed down the woman’s face and Carissa could see her wanting
to gather her son in her arms and hold him tight. Carissa nudged him closer, but at that same moment, the girl who had been walking with his mother moved next to her and took her hand.
“I’m okay, honey. I’m okay.” She patted the young girl’s hand.
The girl, who Carissa supposed was about eleven, looked up at Thomas. She felt him shift his weight. She knew he’d seen the resemblance. The eyes of the girl matched Thomas’s and his mother’s.
“Thomas, this is Madison.” She shifted her eyes back to his. “She’s your sister.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN He felt the breath rush out of his lungs. He’d known she was his sister from the moment he had seen her. Eerily, she was the spitting image of Sarah.
“Dad . . .” was all he could mutter. “I divorced him while he was in prison. He committed suicide the year after you left.”
He needed to sit down, but there was no seat.
His mother wiped at her tears. “I couldn’t be with a man who cost me both of my children. Oh, Thomas. Why did you leave me? How could you have left me?” Her body shook with her words.
He watched. He ached. He wanted to run. Instead he reached for his mother and gathered her in his arms.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” He held her against his chest.
Her tears soaked into his jacket. He breathed in her scent, he whisked back to when she’d hold him, and his tears would soak into her blouse. He remembered the night Sarah had died. His blood soaked into her blouse as well.
They stood in the cemetery. The air had cooled around them, but they held tight to one another.
When she could, Jane pushed back. Her eyes settled on the young woman visiting Sarah’s grave with her son. A tightening in her chest made her force a smile. Was this his wife? Had he married without telling her? Did he have a family? Was she a grandmother? Oh, it wasn’t fair that he’d left her out of his life.
Thomas reached for the woman’s hand, and she walked toward them. “Mom, this is Carissa.” Carissa held out her hand. “Carissa, this is my mother, Jane . . .”
He paused, his eyes seeking hers for confirmation. “Jane Bennett,” she provided.
Carissa shook her hand, but Jane could feel it twitch
with nerves in hers.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Ms. Bennett.”
“Jane, please.” She studied the woman who was
obviously nervous in her presence. Thomas’s eyes shifted between them as though he wanted her to accept the woman as someone he cherished. Trying hard to understand everything she was taking in, she smiled and asked, “Are you Thomas’s wife?”
Carissa opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. No, she wasn’t his wife, but she was finding that she desperately wanted to be.
“Carissa is the daughter of one of the women I toured with in Europe,” Thomas said, and Carissa felt the pain in her heart. She wouldn’t expect him to say wife, because she wasn’t. However, he hadn’t said girlfriend either. Hell, lover would have at least given the woman an idea that they had an intimate relationship. It was as though he’d dismissed her entirely, not even considering her a friend, and then he’d continued. “Carissa is a cellist. I’m helping her set up a music school.”
As if the reunion of son and mother wasn’t emotional enough, his words kept stabbing at her.
“You’re a musician too?” His mother looked at her and Carissa nodded. It was all she could do.
Jane focused back on her son. “I called you a while back. Actually”—she sucked in a breath—“I called you every year on your birthday once I knew you were in Italy and Paris.”
“You did?” “Yes. I always spoke to . . .” She appeared to give it some thought. “Pablo?”
Thomas felt his lips press together. He’d thought Pablo had dismissed his mother because he’d been mad at him. But had he been protecting him for years? He shook off the thought.
“I called you after your accident. Oh, Thomas, I was so afraid I’d lose you before I could tell you how sorry I was for everything.”
His head was spinning and he saw Carissa take a step back. He hadn’t mentioned the accident. He hadn’t intended to.
“I followed you on the Internet so closely. When you were in that car accident with that man, and they thought he’d die, well, I almost flew to your side. But when I called I was told that you didn’t want me around.” She wrung her hands and Madison stepped up to her and took her hand. Jane clung to her daughter as though trying to take the strength and support she was offering. “I love you, Thomas.”
Thomas took a deep breath. This was an opportunity to accept back what he’d run from. His father had died. Shaking his head he thought, what a coward. That blood ran through him. A coward’s blood.
His jaw tightened.
Jane opened her purse and found a piece of paper. She took out a pen and wrote something out. “Here. This is my address. My husband and I live just outside Chicago. I added my phone number as well.” She handed him the paper, and her hand shook. “Thomas, I’d like you to visit us. I’d like you to be part of my family again. You’re my son,” she reminded him. “I lost Sarah. I couldn’t help that. She died in my arms.” She sniffed back the tears. “I lost you. I could have helped that. I should have helped that.” She reached for his hand. “I know what you think.”
Thomas looked into his mother’s eyes. They stared back. “You are not your father. Please, please never think that.”
Thomas swallowed hard. It was hard not to think that, especially when he looked at his mother and then at his sister. Another set of eyes that matched Sarah’s looked back up at him. He’d given up on family and the meaning of family years ago. He’d rejected the idea that he’d ever be part of one again, but he had been brought into one. Sophia and David opened their doors and their hearts to him. Carissa fell in love with him. He had a mother and a sister who wanted him to be part of their lives.
His heart raced again. It was like falling off of a bike and not wanting to get back on, but when you did you’d know what to do. He wasn’t sure he wanted to ride again.
Carissa fumed in her seat as they drove back from the cemetery. When Thomas stopped the car, she flew out of the passenger side and into the hotel room. She pulled clothes from the rack and out of the dresser.
Thomas stepped through the door as she threw her belongings into the suitcase in a violent storm.
“Are you going somewhere?”
“Don’t talk to me. Please don’t talk to me.”
“Carissa, apparently I’ve missed something.” He closed the door behind him. “What are you so angry about?”
“Oh, Thomas, it’s not worth even discussing. I want to go home. Our business here is done and we just need to go home.”
Her voice cracked as she spoke. Her heart was breaking. She knew by the look in his eyes he knew he’d caused it, but he was too inconsiderate to understand why.
He grabbed her arm and pulled her toward him. “Stop.”
She pulled against him, but it was no use. She didn’t want to fight him, she wanted to love him, but he wasn’t letting her. She collapsed against his chest and sobbed, trying to hold tight to what she wanted, but what he refused to give her.
He stroked his hand down her hair. “Now take a minute and tell me what the hell is wrong.”
She took a few deep breaths and considered her feelings. Most of all she was upset with herself. She’d wanted him to introduce her to his mother as the woman he loved. However, the way he'd done it said she was nothing more to him than a daughter of an old friend. She’d felt betrayed. He held her when she slept. He consoled her when she was upset, yet he’d not been able to admit that he loved her or at least say he only wanted sex. It should be at least that simple.
And why had Jane Bennett wanted to fly to his side when he was in Paris? Who had almost died? What else wasn’t he telling her?
When her breathing returned to normal, she looked up into his patient eyes. “Tell me you love me, Thomas. Tell me you want to be with me forever and that you want a future with me.”
His eyes flew open wide and she began to sob again.
“Carissa, I don’ think this is the time or place . . .”
“It never will be, will it?” She pushed her hair from her face and stepped back. She spun away from him and zipped up the suitcase she’d hastily packed. He stepped to her and touched her shoulder.
“Carissa, my feelings for you are so strong.”
“Strong?” She turned back toward him. “Strong? That’s not what I want, Thomas. What I want you can’t give me.”
“I told you that. I’ve always been honest about that.”
She nodded. “Yes, you have. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to believe it would change.”
She picked up the suitcase and walked past him.
Carissa put her suitcase in the trunk of the car while he packed his suitcase. The thought had crossed her mind to drive away. To drive fast and escape anymore heartache, but she couldn’t leave him. It hurt so bad because she loved him.
Thomas put his suitcase in the car and pulled the keys from her fingers. “I’ll drive. You look like you could use the rest.”
He walked to the other side of the car and Carissa stood at the back. Perhaps it was better that she was angry with him; when he gave up on her completely it wouldn’t matter. She didn’t even want to drive back with him. That alone was going to be torture.
She walked around the car and pulled her door open.
“Why did you even come with me?” Her calm was gone as she slammed the door and turned toward him. “Why are you even still helping me with the school? What interest does it hold for you?”
He started the car and sat with the engine running. “I believe in the school, Carissa. I believe in you.”
“You believe in me, but not enough to love me.”
“I’m not the kind of man you want in your life.”
“That’s what you think. I heard your mother with my own ears. You’re not your father.”
“No, I’m worse.” He tunneled his fingers through his hair and then gripped the steering wheel.
Carissa sat silently for a few moments. “Please tell me you respect me enough you’ll explain yourself.”
“I will. And once we get back to Kansas City I’m moving out.”
She wasn’t sure it was possible to feel your heart break, but she did. She felt it rip right in two. She’d wished he’d never come to Chicago with her and that he’d quietly disappeared while she was gone. That would have been much easier to handle.
“Never mind. If you’re walking out of my life, I guess I don’t really need to know.”
By the time Thomas pulled the car into the driveway, the sun was coming up. They hadn’t stopped except to get gas. He’d bought them sandwiches at the gas station, but Carissa had refused to eat hers. When he put the car into park, she flew from the seat into the house and locked herself in her bedroom.
Thomas took his time gathering their belongings from the car. He’d walked her case to her door and set it just outside. He could hear her sobbing. His heart wanted him to knock on the door and apologize, but his head said run. Leave her to find what she needed, knowing he wasn't it.
He stepped away and walked down the hall to his room. His eyes burned from lack of sleep and now they were tearing up. Dammit, be a man. Men don’t cry over women, he told himself just as his father would have, but the tears broke free. The bottled-up emotions of going back to Chicago, seeing his sister’s grave, and hearing his mother’s voice crashed through him. He sat on the edge of the bed and cried.
It all hurt, but even worse was knowing he’d broken Carissa’s heart.
The woman loved him, and dammit, he loved her. Why couldn’t he just accept that?
Because, he knew, in the end her hurting now would be less than when he hurt her later. If he told her he loved her, and they moved forward, things would just get worse. What if someday he touched her, hurt her, perhaps—oh God—even killed her?
He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. Then he reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper his mother had given him and his cell phone.
With trembling fingers he dialed the number she’d written down.
“Hello?” A sleepy voice answered. Thomas looked over at the clock. It was only six in the morning. He’d awoken her.
“It’s Thomas,” he said softly.
“Thomas!” Her voice was fully awake now. “Oh, I didn’t think you’d call.”
“I’m sorry for waking you.”
“No. No. You call me anytime.” Her voice was shaky and he knew she was crying. “Are you still in Chicago?”
“No. I just got back to Kansas City.”
“Is that where you live?”
He let out a sigh. “For the moment.” He scrubbed his free had over his unshaven chin. “Mom, I’d like to come visit for a few days.”
His mother lived in a nice house. There was a Lexus and a BMW in the driveway of the two-story home with the porch light on. He climbed from the rental car and stood in the street taking in the view.
The house they’d lived in when he was a small child nearly had fallen in around them. The house he’d fled from and never returned to had been a block from a run-down bar, with furtive strangers exchanging money for small packages on street corners.
Jane Bennett opened the front door and stepped outside. She seemed so much older than when he’d left so many years ago. He thought too, the man who walked toward her now certainly wasn’t the young man whom she remembered as her little boy or whom she’d held, bleeding against her in the floor of the closet.
She ran her hands down her arms as though fighting off the chill. He saw the wedding ring on her hand as he neared. Whomever she’d married had been someone much different from his father. Clothing, jewelry, cars, and a beautiful house fitted her. As a young man, he’d always wished such wonderful things for his mother, wished he could give them to her.
“Thomas, I’m glad you’ve come.” She smiled and he felt his chest tighten. As he cleared the last step and stood face-to-face with her on the porch, she held out her arms and he fell into them as though he were still that little boy.
“Oh, Mom, I’ve missed you. I’ve missed so much.” He sobbed against her shoulder. She raised her hand to his head and stroked his hair. He gasped a breath when he realized he was home.
“I’ve missed you too,” she said softly against his ch
eek, and suddenly all the nights he’d spent being so alone and scared disappeared. She missed him. She’d wanted him back and now he was.
When he could finally breathe and the tears had almost dried, he took a step back and his mother held tight to his hands and looked him over. He’d been a skinny boy, shy, with no confidence. He hoped that she’d see he wasn’t a weak child anymore, but that she’d look at him as a strong man, a man of the world. Strong, not in physical strength like his father, but in heart, like she was.
“Come inside.” She took his hand and led him into the well-furnished home.
The young girl he’d seen at the cemetery sat on the couch watching television. She stood when she saw him walk through the door with their mother.
“You remember Madison?”
“I didn’t get the chance to say hello.” He held out his hand and she shook it timidly.
He couldn’t help but stare at her. Her eyes, her hair, her build all matched Sarah. His mother patted his shoulder, obviously knowing what was going through his mind.
A man emerged from the other room. He was tall, at least as tall as Thomas. His hair was white and even lounging in his home, he wore slacks, his T-shirt tucked into them. A heavy white mustache shadowed his top lip. Thomas figured he was at least ten years older than his mother.
“Thomas, this is my husband, Parker Bennett.”
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Thomas,” he said, holding his hand out for him to shake.
Acceptance, Thomas realized, something he’d never had from his own father. Reeling at the unexpected welcome, he shook the man’s hand.
“Why don’t the two of you go into the kitchen? I just made a pot of coffee and Madison and I are going to head upstairs,” he offered, pausing as Jane kissed his cheek. “Thomas, it was nice to meet you. I hope you’ll be visiting for a while.” He smiled and escorted his daughter up the stairs.
“I can’t believe . . .”
“How much she looks like Sarah?” They watched them disappear to the second floor.
“Yes.”
“I will admit there are days I find myself calling out the wrong name. I know she’s used to that. But I feel bad about it.” She looked up at him. “She’s very familiar with both of you. I’ve made sure she knows her brother and sister. I’d always hoped you’d return.”
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